In Paris With You
by Bookworm4lyf1
Summary: What really happens in Paris, the city of love? Based on the poem 'in Paris with you' by James Fenton, based on Twilight. One shot.


Summary: what really happens in Paris, the city of love? Based on the poem 'in Paris with you' by James Fenton based on Twilight.

Copyright: the characters belong to the one and only Stephanie Meyer and the poem belong to James Fenton. The words are just mine. :(

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In Paris with you

His lean body slumped on the stool at the sordid bar; he dragged his hand from his cup of beer and moved it towards his bronzy 'just-had-sex' hair ruffling the already messy hair. His once upon a time vibrant emerald eyes lacked life, life that drew women and some men to him. These days his eyes were dull, boring like the ragged looking guy sitting next to him.

One, two, three,

Three shots of vodka he threw back in a smooth, careless way not caring that the drink stung the back of his throat. Not bothered that another block of his memory will be lost, will be forgotten in far, far way land.

He turned to his right and saw a women hitting on a man.

"Don't fall for the trap, the woman do nothing but project false emotions and feelings. When they have what they need, they will go away leaving you alone, trust me my brother!" he muttered angrily thinking of his own experience that left him nothing but bitter. He turned to his left and saw a man and a woman in a gentle, loving hug, a hug that said a million words.

"Why bother in a relationship? They always leave you in the end; they leave you standing cold feeling worthless and dry out the bank. They will leave you for a better looking, wealthier man, who is better in bed than you." He whispered bitterly. To remove the bitter taste left inside his mouth from remembering the bitter memories, he had a quick sip from his almost finish cup of vodka.

_Don't talk about love _it is worthless nothing but a bunch of emotions and feelings. Turning towards the door behind him he saw a _bit of Paris in view. _ The cold night's wind entered the bar as a sly serpent ready to cause mischief to anyone a couple or man. The cold wind hit his face waking him up from his trace of unpleasant memories.

He turned back around, ordered another shot to replace the ever-present bitter taste in his mouth, Too tired, too restless to care about anything, anyone.

Slumping back in his stool, he thought if mother saw me now she would have given me a beating, but she isn't here, it is only me and my dignity. Slumping on the stool he looked up and saw a vision, his emerald eyes meet brown chestnut eyes in a trance he went up to introduces himself.

He didn't_ want to talk about love, but about a bit of Paris in view. _He greeted her with a smile and a kiss on her hand. Mother would be proud he thought.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" she covered her face, whilst giggling softly as a delicate pink blush spread from her face towards her chest. Jackpot.

Taking her to a sleazy motel room was a horrible contrast to the lovely romantic Paris. The room had a small window with a mustard seed's view of Paris, courtesy of the brown stained window. The room had nothing inside but a cupboard and a bed he noticed, but he got distracted as he sat on the bed, touching her trying not to think about Paris. The bed strings started to squeak and hurt his back when she straddled him and started her magic.

Lying next to her hours later was a change for him. As they always leave him cold, alone and naked in bed. She wanted to see the _Louvre, Notre Dame, Champs Elysees_, and _the Eiffel Tower_. He didn't want to take her anywhere, but later he might take her somewhere He thought as he looked at her. Chocolate curly hair fanned around her like a halo. She looked like an angel who dropped from heaven just for him.

"How long are you in Paris for, you don't look like you're from here!" she asked with a flirtatious smile.

"I've got two days left on this lovely vacation." he answered her stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. It was like touching a feather, soft and silky.

"What to do with only two days left in Paris. Romantic, seductive Paris?" she asked with a confident smile, the blush, the coyness presented hours a go gone. Like his touch took all her coyness away.

"Look at you blushing, _am I embarrassing you_?" she questioned him with a face of an angel but those who knew her knew she was everything but an angel. She leaned her face towards him ready for another kiss, another round, another tousle in the barn.

I picked bait to fuel my sadist nature, story of my life. Yet I never heard them complaining. _"Don't talk to me of love" I know more than enough._

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Thanks for reading. I wrote this as part of my English work. Hope you liked it. Do review!


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